Breathe
by secondbutton
Summary: "Vegeta, do you want to get married?" "Hm." Most people would have dismissed Vegeta's reply as impassive, but Bulma knew him. Whether or not he cared about what she had to say was irrelevant anyway.


Hello everyone! I'm back with a new fic, and it hasn't even been two months yet! What an accomplishment, right? Anyway, this is my first dive into VB. I've read them for probably _years _now, but I've never gathered enough courage or inspiration to actually write a fic. This is my theory behind how exactly they came to be married. With VB, one can't expect flowery declaration of love, ne? I hope you guys find it genuine; I tried to stay within both of their characters.

Enjoy!

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Her breathing had not evened out yet; the woman refused to fall asleep. She was thinking about something, of this he was sure, but he could not read minds; she would have to blurt it out or just let it weigh on her conscious. Bulma, rarely one for restraint, chose the former.

"Vegeta, do you want to get married?"

Vegeta turned to the woman beside him (behind, more like; somehow she had managed to put them in a reverse spoon position.)

"Hm."

Most people would have dismissed Vegeta's reply as impassive, but Bulma knew him. Whether or not he cared about what she had to say was irrelevant anyway. She would tell him what she wanted him to hear regardless.

"You know. Married. White dress, wedding ceremony, flowers, receptions?"

He regarded her for a second before closing his eyes. "Woman, I don't need any sort of public announcement to enforce the fact that you are mine. Now go to sleep."

He turned away from her once again but did not shrug out her grasp as she wrapped her arm around his torso. Bulma sighed. She knew that he wouldn't allow her to press the matter further. She closed her eyes and dreamed about wedding bells.

Vegeta, however, remained awake. He knew that this question would come eventually; surely Kakarot's own wedding would plant ideas in her mind. He was grateful that she was not impressionable as most earth women and did not seem to crave the legal affirmation that Kakarot's aggravating harpy did. Nevertheless, she was still a woman (a fact clearly evidenced by the fragile softness pressing into his back) and women tended to want romantic things. Weddings definitely filed under that category.

Vegeta knew he would be lying if he told the woman that the thought of a wedding never crossed his mind. After all, Kakarot's was such a huge event that he could never forget it if he wanted. Thankfully, he had long mastered the art of selective memory and the only thoughts that occupied his mind when he recalled aforementioned event were those that entailed Bulma's body sliding along his as she forced him to dance with her during the reception. It was worth the public humiliation, he later admitted, not only because he thoroughly enjoyed any romantic physical contact they shared, but also because he discovered that his relationship with the woman still hackled that scar-faced moron. Vegeta smirked. He took delight in flaunting his woman. She was his, and he didn't need a wedding to confirm that. She gave him a son, and he stayed with her to raise him. That alone was affirmation enough.

Still...

Vegeta shifted his body to face the woman, careful not to wake her. He regarded her; her sleeping countenance was always a sight to behold. She looked truly at peace. He knew he would not be teased for staring so unabashedly if she was not awake to see it.

He wrapped an arm around her, pausing to note the stark contrast between their bodies. He was tan, scarred, battle-hardened, without an ounce of fat within his physique. She was pale, flawless, soft, and wholly fragile. She was bathed in moonlight clad in nothing but his shirt under the sheets haphazardly thrown about her. Traces of their lovemaking were evident on her skin, from his vantage point he spied several red marks, no doubt placed there during the most intense heat of their activities.

When did she shift from a useless earth woman to his most trusted companion? The transformation that she catalyzed within him was truly amazing. He admitted a long time ago that the affection he held for her was more than the obligation that an unmarried man had toward the mother of his son. He never found the opportunity to say as much, though he knew that she knew. He would not stay if he did not wish it. Vegeta could not imagine himself elsewhere. Bulma brought him peace of mind, even though their constant bickering could hardly be termed as such. He did not mind her volatile nature; in fact, it was one of her facets that so attracted him. He would be bored with predictability. She kept him on his toes, and what she lacked physically she more than compensated for with her wit and intellect. He was happy with the life he now led. A wedding would do nothing to improve or take away from that.

He knew that Bulma had been contemplating a wedding for a while; he saw the clippings of wedding dresses and flower arrangements that looked so out of place on her desk. He visited her at her office that day; a simple request to repair a minor component of the gravity room transformed into a heated battle for dominance on her workspace. He eventually won out, of course, but he made sure it was worth her while. He would do anything to hear him say his name in that breathy way of hers, after all. After the deed she kissed his cheek and pulled back against his arms, not leaving the cocoon of his limbs but leaning far enough so she could look at him fully. She bit her lip and seemed to want to talk about something. He waited, mildly curious, wondering if he had enough time to take her again. She was irresistible when she was biting her lip. Her mouth opened but she hesitated.

"Spit it out, woman."

"A-ah. Hm."

Vegeta raised a brow.

"... I love you."

It wasn't the first time she said it, of course, but every time those words escaped her lips she floored him. Even after all these years, the fact that someone could care for him so deeply was astounding. She was aware of what he was, a killer, a warrior, but still found it within herself to present her heart so openly. It was times like these that he realized the he chose a truly remarkable woman. Of course, he never reciprocated her words, and Bulma accepted this. Words could be taken back, said so often that they lost their meaning. Bulma liked words, however, so he accepted them and did not scorn her for her affinity with mere sounds.

He always responded with actions. He kissed her deeply then, relishing in the warmth of this woman who simply made him _feel_. He picked her up, flying out of the window and into their room, where he showed her just how much he returned her love.

A soft cry pierced through his thoughts, inaudible to the point where only one who was accustomed to such a noise would hear it. Vegeta slowly slipped out the bed, making sure that he did not wake Bulma as he disentangled their limbs. He padded slowly to the source of the sound, the adjacent room in which trunks slept. Vegeta considered his son for a second, and his presence seemed to calm the little one. Short arms reached for him, and Vegeta did not resist the urge that compelled him to lift his son out of his crib. Trunks gargled happily, and Vegeta shushed him, trying to keep the sound gentle. His efforts to silence the child were futile however, and he sensed Bulma making her way toward them. She smiled sleepily at the sight of the two men in her life and reached for trunks.

"Is he hungry?" vegeta shrugged. "He is not wailing, so i suppose not."

He sat down in the rocking chair by the crib, watching Bulma as she held their son.

"Hiya trunks. Did your daddy scare the hunger away from you?" Vegeta snorted. Trunks just gargled some more and smiled wider. Both parents were paying attention to him now, and his infant mind was sated. Nevertheless, the familiar unpleasant stirrings in his tummy appeared, and he grasped his mother's shirt. Bulma smiled and settled herself on Vegeta's lap, lifting the fabric to expose her breast.

Vegeta always found the act of breastfeeding curious, if not odd. To him, Bulma's chest was a sexual entity, not a source of vitality. His brain told him that that _was_ their purpose, but his Saiyan possessiveness resented the fact that someone else touched her in so intimately a place, even though it was their son, and the act was purely maternal.

He looked away.

After a number of minutes, Bulma finished and returned to her post on Vegeta's lap. She kissed him chastely, sighing in contentment and then proceeding to rest her head on his chest.

"Vegeta... About my question earlier-"

"Yes." he spoke impulsively, interrupting her. He realized he meant his words. If a wedding meant so much to her, then he would give her one. She pushed herself off of his torso, searching his dark eyes.

"Really?"

He nodded. She smiled. All doubts of his love for her completely vanished.

"I'm glad."

They found themselves in bed once again, partaking in the nectar that they offered each other. It was heated and intense, their breaths mingling as they competed with each other, even under the throes of passion. He was currently winning.

His muscled body loomed over her, his trademark smirk lightly laced with affection as he regarded his woman. "Vegeta..." she gritted out. "Let me be on top." He lowered his face until their noses were almost touching. "No."

His mouth traveled to her neck, lavishing the skin with nips and kisses, reveling in her scent. She smelled faintly of flowers, a species that exuded evidence of her femininity but not so much that he was disgusted by its fragility. He did not care what the real nomenclature of the flower was; he had already named it Bulma.

She writhed under him, her hips moving against his groin tantalizingly. If she moved just a little lower, Bulma thought, he would be inside her. Vegeta had other thoughts though; it seemed like he wanted to prolong this as much as possible. Vegeta shifted his attention to her mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips. It was another test of will, and this time Bulma was determined to win. She combated his appendage with her own, tongues clashing within her mouth in an effort to illicit a response from the other. Bulma barely registered the fact that one of his hands was ghosting down to her center until he pressed against her nub and she jolted in pleasure.

Her moan reverberated into Vegeta's mouth and she felt his lips twist into a smirk. Two fingers plunged into her and Bulma tore his lips from his, focusing on not succumbing to his seduction.

"Something the matter?" the mockery was evident in his tone; she knew he was just riling her and it was working.

"Nothing at all, dearest fiancé." her own hand reached between them, grasping his member with her fingers. He leaned down to her ear. "You're going to have to do better than that, woman." he lifted his face to observe her and smirked at her irritated at her expression. She gripped his appendage tighter, but it didn't seem to affect him at all.

"Woman, you've brought me to the edge three times already. I can go for _hours._" She narrowed her eyes at him. He spoke the truth of course, but admitting it would be conceding to his dominance before they even started.

"Challenge accepted." Vegeta's smirk grew. Did she really hope to beat him? With just her hand? How cute.

"Don't forget to scream my name." she shot him a glare. What a presumptuous jerk! Before she could voice her protests however, his head dipped down, kissing her once again. She met him halfway, if only to assert her own will but soon her motives became lost within the heat of their passion. He drew back when she was successfully dazed and shot her a cocky expression. Before she knew it he was making his path down her body, hands and mouth flitting over her breasts, her stomach, and finally stopping at their destination. Vegeta pressed his tongue against her slit and she jerked up immediately, half in pleasure and protest. If he pinned her down and had his way with her down there, she was a goner for sure.

She felt his chuckle against her inner thighs more than she heard it, and Bulma tried to lever her elbows and propel her against the headboard, but Vegeta's hands kept her in place. "Another time, woman, I'll give you the chance to win, but not tonight. Enjoy this." He licked her languorously and a moan escaped her mouth. His lips quickly latched on to her nub and she convulsed, still sensitive from their previous activities. He suckled on her, undeterred, and his fingers pumped in and out of her. "A-ah!" He was driving her crazy. The assault on her senses was more than she could bear and she quickly found herself reaching her climax. Vegeta pushed her to the edge, pumping faster and sucking harder. She toppled off of the cliff, screams spilling out of her lips again and again as her brain tried to process the pleasure.

When she found the strength to open her eyes he was looking down at her with an intensely virile stare, possessive, primal. Bulma turned into putty under that gaze, and Vegeta knew it. There was just something so wholly satisfying about knowing that you are in the arms of a _man_. A real man, by Bulma's standards, kept her thinking, constantly challenged her, but respected her accomplishments. Vegeta fit these standards, though there were inevitable times when she couldn't stand the sight of him. Now was not one of them.

"I win."

Even in her sated state she couldn't help but argue with him. "I let you."

"Oh?" She nods slightly and smiles at him. "Mhmm." He doesn't say anything to her, and instead shifts so that he is cradling her in his arms. She reaches down in between them once again, palming his still-hard appendage. "Aren't you going to take care of this?"

"Hn."

"I'm not _that _tired." He eyes her, that virile expression making its way upon his face once again. He towers over her, his arms serving barring her from the outside world, and he touches her until all she is capable of thinking of is him. Nothing exists outside the premises of their bed, no sounds permeating her subconscious aside from her breathy moans and his barely restrained grunts mingling in the air, professing the love being displayed.

When he pushes them both off of the edge, she does not forget to breathe out his name.

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I had originally planned to cut it off at "I'm glad." but the lemon just somehow made it onto the paper! Hopefully I did alright; I've never actually _written _a lemon before, though I'm sure I must've read hundreds by now. Reviews would be much appreciated. (:


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